


Christmas Cold

by cable69



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cable69/pseuds/cable69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m s’posed to be the one to notice sickness,” Bones grumbled as he read Spock’s life signs. “I’m a doctor, not… useless.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Cold

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at ff.net; unedited

Everybody was surprised that Kirk saw it before Bones did.

“I’m s’posed to be the one to notice sickness,” Bones grumbled as he read Spock’s life signs. “I’m a doctor, not… useless.” It was about six in the morning (although you couldn’t tell from looking outside, since the Enterprise was currently in deep space), and Bones was not in a very good mood.

“You are not useless,” said Kirk mildly, staring down at Spock, who was fast asleep on the biobed. “You just weren’t on the bridge when he started coughing. What has he got? Why did he fall asleep so quickly?”

“Not sure yet…” said Bones distractedly, a crease appearing between his brows. “Nurse Chapel, run a standard diagnostic while I pull up his charts.”

Spock had been sick for a while now, Bones realized, and Kirk had known it because Kirk, somehow, knew everything (and it was a damn annoying trait). Bones had been stressed recently: their last on-planet mission had gone less than well, and eight security officers had been holed up in sickbay for the past week recovering from an impressive array of wounds, poisons, lung damage, and psychological traumas; the last one had been released yesterday. And in his free time, he’d been trying to organize Christmas presents for everybody—today was Christmas Eve. He should have noticed that Spock, as Kirk described, ate exactly a third of the usual amount of food he had for breakfast, was only 2.4 minutes early for his most recent shift rather than his usual average of 8.7, sustained REM sleep for over twelve hours a day, and had requested two boxes of tissue from the Deck Seven replicator the previous morning. He was around the damn Vulcan enough nowadays that he should have caught these things.

Bones and Chapel consulted while Kirk paced. Finally Bones came back, a grim expression on his face.

“What is it?” said Kirk, his heart fluttering. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s got—” Bones paused heavily to check his chart. “Jim, he has… a cold.”

“What?” Kirk nearly shouted. “That’s it? You made it sound like he had… Andorian sleeping sickness, or something.”

Bones laughed, his mood improved now that he knew Spock was okay. “I’m sorry. That was pretty cruel of me. Still, he’s gonna be outta commission for about a week. I’m confinin’ him to quarters; colds spread like wildfires on ships like these, and we can’t practically vaccinate for them, although I can give you a little somethin’ to keep you from catchin’ it.”

“And why can’t we cure the common cold, again?”

Bones gave Kirk an exasperated look. “Jim, I’ve explained this to you before. It’s because the specific sterotype of the rhinovirus that causes the cold has a short lytic cycle, and you’d have to take clorpheniramine before the rhinovirus got its molecular foothold, which is basically impossible. Plus there are about a million different types of virus that cause the cold, and you’d have to formulate your vaccine or preventative treatment for each one.”

Kirk blinked at him. “Listen, I took biology about twenty years ago, so I’m just going to take your word for it.”

“Good idea. I’ll escort our patient to his quarters. Christine, the ibuprofen?”

Chapel tossed a bottle towards Bones, who caught it. Bones turned to address Kirk formally. “Captain, I’ll be in Mr. Spock’s quarters ‘till I’m assured of his comfort.”

“Fine,” grumbled Kirk. “Hourly updates, okay?”

“Ten-four,” grinned Bones, and rolled the sleeping Spock out of sickbay. It was a pretty sweet deal for Bones: he got to hang around with Spock until Spock got better, since there really wasn’t much else to do, and everybody got a lot of time off during Christmas anyway.

Kirk stomped back to the bridge, still in a bad mood because of the scare. He came back to find a rosy-cheeked Chekov waving mistletoe over Sulu’s head as Uhura looked on, laughing. Scowling, he took a seat in the captain’s seat, immediately spoiling everyone’s mood.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Uhura asked, coming over and leaning against a panel near Kirk’s chair.

“Spock’s got a cold,” grumbled Kirk. “We were going to go see the Christmas lights on Tiryn V with everybody else, but now he’s under quarantine. And Bones gets to take care of him while I sit up here watching Romeo and Juliet coo over each other.”

“Hey,” said Sulu indignantly. “We do not coo.” Chekov nodded energetically in agreement.

“Shut up, you’re positively morning doves. Anyway, I’m all bitter and unhappy.” Kirk sighed dramatically and slumped in his chair.

“There is a very easy solution to all of this, and it’s depressing that I have to tell you what it is,” said Uhura patiently. “Get Scotty up here to take the conn. Keenser’s been bugging him about getting a chance to head engineering for a while anyway. That way, you can spend time with your boyfriends before we hit Tiryn V tomorrow and you have to mope around without seeing the lights. And deal with the governor; I hear he’s a bore.”

Kirk got up and tried to kiss Uhura until she slapped him. “I love you,” he told her feelingly as she held him at arm’s length.

“I detest you,” she replied, but grinned.

Kirk called Scotty to the bridge and fled to Deck Seven. He tried to go into Spock’s room but ran into the door when it didn’t open automatically for him.

Rubbing his head, he pressed the doorbell on the entry panel. “What the hell, Bones,” he said in a polite whisper, which would be projected into the room.

“Shut up, Jim,” came Bones’s distinct reply. “He’s still fast asleep, you idiot…” Bones trailed off and Kirk was about to say something else when the door slid noiselessly open and Bones stepped into the hallway.

“What—” Kirk started to say as the door closed, but Bones stabbed a hypospray into Kirk’s neck without any warning whatsoever. Kirk actually threw a punch at Bones, but Bones, who was used to this sort of thing, ducked easily, fished around in his pocket, and fetched out another hypospray. Kirk was so affronted that Bones was able to sink the second one into his neck just as easily.

“I—I—” Kirk was too overcome with indignation. “You—”

“That,” said Bones, tucking the hyposprays back in his pocket with a certain amount of smug self-satisfaction, “means that you won’t get the cold. Maybe. You can thank me later.”

“Thank you—” spluttered Kirk.

“You’re welcome,” said Bones graciously. “Anyway, come in. He woke up when you started screechin’.”

Instead of killing Bones (and it was a near thing), Kirk stalked inside. Spock was laid straight out on his bed, like an Egyptian mummy, with his arms crossed over his chest. In place of the shepherd’s crook and flail, Spock clutched a packet of tissues.

“Captain,” he said formally, attempting to sit up.

“Hey,” cautioned Kirk, rushing over and pushing him unceremoniously back down. “You’re sick. Don’t even think about it.”

“Forgive me for—” Spock coughed. “—wishing to greet you.”

“You sound terrible,” said Kirk. Spock blew his nose pathetically.

“He’ll just have to deal with it,” said Bones unsympathetically, arms crossed at the end of Spock’s bed. “Everybody gets the cold now and then.”

Spock looked quite unhappy. “Most sicknesses are easily cured,” he said leadingly to Bones. “Especially by…” and it looked as if it pained him to say it, “… a doctor of your caliber.”

“Wow!” said Bones, clapping his hands with evil glee. “Didja hear that, Jim? A complement outta the green-blooded hobgoblin!” 

“He’s just trying to bribe you,” laughed Kirk.

“I am merely suggesting that these common symptoms should have common antidotes,” said Spock unhappily.

“They do,” said Bones. “Tylenol, Kleenexes, and a good night’s sleep.” He paused reflectively. “You’ve heard of the cold, right?”

“I have heard of it, yes.”

“You know it’s incurable.”

Spock looked quite frustrated. “But Leonard, it is clearly a very simple sickness.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He launched into an even lengthier scientific explanation than before, loosing Kirk completely. “You got it ‘cause you’re part human,” Bones finished. Spock looked marginally satisfied.

“How do you feel?” Kirk finally asked.

Spock considered his possible replies. After blowing his nose again, he replied stuffily, “Disgusting.”

Kirk and Bones exchanged amused glances. Spock glared at them. Kirk sat on Spock’s bed and wrapped his arms around Spock. His Vulcan was even warmer than normal.

“You’ll feel better in a day or two,” said Kirk. He pressed his lips to Spock’s temple. “Want to watch a movie? Play a game? Be read a book?”

Spock sniffled. “Yes.”

“Which one?” grinned Bones.

“Any of them would be… pleasurable,” said Spock. Then he sneezed. “Compared to this.”

Bones and Kirk kept Spock company for the next twenty-four hours, at which time they reached Tiryn V. The Christmas lights of Tiryn V were not your normal suburban string lights, but were instead a natural phenomenon that occurred, entirely out of nature’s beautiful coincidence, only Christmas day, in the evening and early night. Spock spent about an hour explaining the reason behind the lights to Kirk, who twiddled his thumbs most of the time in some perplexity. (He could figure out that Romulans were attacking Vulcan and manage to stop them despite their having the advantage of superior weapons and technology, but wavelengths and colds were beyond him—there were no tactics involved in sniffles and lights.) The lights were an aurora, although they were more complex than the ones that appeared on Earth. 

Kirk had conveniently scheduled the Enterprise to pick up supplies there on Christmas Day and to stay on overnight. He supervised the loading and unloading, leaving Bones (contentedly) with (an uncontented, not to mention still sneezy) Spock. The (indeed tedious) governor of the planet had him, Scotty, Uhura, and Sulu to lunch (Chekov stayed, to command the ship in case of an emergency). Then they went to a local market to see the sights and buy presents.

Uhura was the one who found it, and Kirk would be forever in her debt.

“I’m not kidding,” she said as she dragged Kirk by the sleeve towards a particularly crowded booth. “They’re perfect. You have to get one.”

“I’ve heard they’re not very good on ships—”

“Get it chemically neutered or something,” said Uhura. “Just look at them.” She elbowed her way through the crowd (Kirk thought Uhrua must not be feeling the Christmas spirit, and apologized to the people whose toes she trod on) and emerged, with Kirk, into a hollow at the front, where the product was visible.

“Oh my God,” said Kirk, leaning down.

“See?” said Uhura triumphantly. “How perfect are they?”

“Ideal,” said Kirk, still enraptured as he passed a few credits over to the salesman. “I’ll take… those two.”

Back on the ship, Bones was wheeling Spock down to the Observation Deck. He had basically covered Spock in cellophane, ordered that the turbolift and corridors he used to get Spock there be cordoned off, and sprayed Lysol bleach before and after his course.

“You seem to be concerned about the spread of germs,” said Spock. It was a massive understatement.

“Don’t speak, you’re just expellin’ viruses,” said Bones, drowning an innocent turbolift control panel in disinfectant. “Good thing this ship’s waterproof.” Once he had deposited Spock in Observation, he went back over their path with even more sterilizing solution. Kirk found him armed to the teeth with prophylactics on Deck Five.

“Hey,” said Kirk. “All of the scientists on board have told me that we probably won’t be able to see the lights from space. You know that, right?”

“I’m willin’ to try,” muttered Bones, leaning over a railing and trying to clean every individual nook and cranny of the engraving on it. “Our patient’s down on the Observation Deck, and I brought all the presents along. What’d you end up gettin’ him, by the way?”

“You’ll see,” said Kirk, grinning. Bones was slightly afraid.

Finally Kirk pried Bones away from his germicidal mission and got him down to where Spock was propped up in his bed, surrounded by tissues and looking woefully underappreciated. Kirk had only experienced Spock as an invalid a few times, and the change always surprised him: Spock went from being a calm, confident crewmember to a wide-eyed, rather passive-aggressive shut-in. Sicknesses positively did him in. Bones cleared the Kleenexes off of Spock’s bed and kissed him right on the lips.

“Is that wise?” Kirk and Spock asked together.

Bones shrugged. “I take a cocktail of anti-cold drugs every week. I haven’t been sick since I was twelve.”

Kirk and Spock exchanged looks suggesting that Bones was mentally unstable.

They wished each other merry Christmas and exchanged presents. Kirk kept checking his watch: the Christmas lights were supposed to begin at around twenty-one hundred. He didn’t think they would be visible, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. They had a fantastic view of Tiryn V at any rate.

The presents Kirk had purchased on the planet were opened last. He had gotten one each for Spock and Bones, who attempted their wrapping paper cautiously, since Kirk was grinning so enthusiastically, and that was never a good sign.

Underneath the paper were very small glass cages, and inside the very small glass cages were green- and red-dyed tribbles.

If Spock had been a human female, he probably would have made a sound akin to a squee. As it was, he held the glass container for a moment in shock and then hugged it, very lightly, to his chest.

Bones nearly dropped his. He immediately depressed the lock panel on his tribble’s cage and got it out. The thing snuffled a bit in his hands, warming them. When he moved it closer to his body, it snuggled against his pecs, purring.

“All together now,” said Kirk, eyes bright; “d’awwwwwwww.”

“Jim, this is… fascinating,” said Spock, who had his eyes closed and was petting his tribble absently. “I… I feel… oddly relaxed.”

“Yeah,” said Bones distractedly. “Mmhm.”

Kirk laughed, and then glanced out the window just as a flash of brilliant blue lit up the room. Spock and Bones turned to the window as well.

“Fascinating,” said Spock, sitting up. “It seems that we will be able to view the Christmas lights from space.”

“Science is wrong about something? Crazy,” said Kirk, baiting Spock, who ignored him archly.

“Jim, you’re like a small child,” sighed Bones.

He and Kirk went to sit on Spock’s bed with Spock between them. They leaned against each other and watched the lights as they petted the two tribbles. 

“I’m still sorry you’re sick, but this isn’t so bad, is it?” said Kirk to Spock, who had Bones’s arm around his shoulder.

“It is, in fact, quite close to perfect,” said Spock. Kirk kissed his cheek.

“Good,” said Bones. “So are both of you.” He paused as Spock blew his nose. “Except for the germs, of course.”

Kirk bit his lip to keep from laughing, and Spock nearly smiled.


End file.
